


Emergency Christmas Cookies

by SassyStarboard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:47:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: Sirius has never made his own Christmas cookies. James determines this to be an utter tragedy in need of emergency measures. Christmas fluff.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Emergency Christmas Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had the beginning of this for awhile, but I was making Christmas cookies and it finally gave me inspiration for a plot. Also, I know that in England cookies are called biscuits so I tried to write it like that, but it was throwing me off because I kept picturing American biscuits and it just feels more natural to me this way. Also, let me know if the house elves seem weird, I’ve never written them before. So...I know. Just...Merry Christmas!! Enjoy!

  
“Ow, Remy, that was my foot!” Sirius complained.  
  
“Yeah, Remy. Aren’t werewolves supposed to have night vision?” James teased.  
  
“I do not have night vision.” Remus replied. “What I do have is extremely sensitive hearing, but I won’t be needing that tonight seeing as you’re stomping around louder than an elephant in a suit of armor!”  
  
“That’d be one big suit of armor.” Peter commented.  
  
“Shhh!” James said. “We’re almost in the clear. Look, there it is!”  
  
The four of them had been shuffling down the hallway for quite a while now. It was their third year and James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had barely fit under the cloak when they were scrawny little eleven year olds, let alone now that they were all entering their teenage years. It had been a slow progression—especially on the moving staircases—but James was right. They’d almost made it. It would be a complete and utter shame to be caught now. Not to mention the crushing blow it would deliver to their reputation.

James pushed around his friends to get to the front of the cloak, reaching his arm out of it and pointing to a painting of a large bowl of fruit that was hung up towards the end of the corridor. Immediately, a panicked Remus yanked James’ arm back.  
  
“What was that for?” James protested. Remus opened his mouth to warn him, but Sirius beat him to it.  
  
“So Nearly-Headless Nick didn’t see your floating arm and think he’d found himself a girlfriend.” He whispered harshly, jabbing James with his elbow and looking pointedly towards the Gryffindor ghost that had come around the corner. The four of them stayed silent and huddled together as Nick floated past them, the ghost eventually drifting down the hallway and out of sight.  
  
“Right.” James managed breathlessly. “Good catch, mate.” Remus rolled his eyes.  
  
The four of them continued their poorly synchronized shuffle down the stone corridor, coming to a stop in front of the painting.

“You’re sure this is it?” Sirius asked. James gave his best friend a dry look.

“No, I’ve just led us down four flights of stairs for a laugh. I’ve no idea where we are or what we’re doing. In fact, who are you? Who am I?” James had an exaggerated, stricken expression on his face. Sirius punched his arm.

“You’re a right git, is what you are.” He muttered. “Now show us the bloody secret passage, I’m starving.”

“I should hope so. You’re the whole reason we came all the way down here, after all.” James sniffed. “What kind of tragic person has gone their entire life never having made their own Christmas cookies?”

Sirius’ mouth pressed into a thin line. “The kind with a cruel distant mother and an army of house elves.” He said sharply. “Am I getting cookies or not?”

“Don’t be an ass, James.” Remus snipped. James shrank.

“Sorry.” He offered. “It’s just...they’re the best when you’ve made your own, you know? I just wasn’t thinking.”

Sirius hesitated, then gave a resigned sort of half shrug. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not.” James said fiercely, recovering. “It’s an atrocity and it demands rectification...and sprinkles.”

The four of them fell into a brief, odd silence while they stared at the painting. It was large and ornate, the size of the canvas and the frame similar to that of the Fat Lady’s—likely because both paintings hid a secret passage. Unlike the Fat Lady, however, this painting was bright and quiet and didn’t accost students with out of tune opera. It was a large bowl of fruit; there were apples and bananas and grapes and pears.  
  
“So what now?” Peter asked, very clearly demonstrating to the others his inability to whisper. The others groaned.  
  
“You mean now that you lot have woken up the whole of Hogwarts?” Remus retorted. “I don’t know. Perhaps we’ll-“  
  
“Tickle the pear.” James said. Remus raised an eyebrow. The others looked just as confused.  
  
“I _beg_ your pardon?” Sirius managed.  
  
“You heard me, go on.” James pushed, excited.

“What, in front of you?” Sirius made a face. Remus rolled his eyes, then reached past the others to get to the painting. He reached out and ran his finger along the painting, tickling the pear.

The pear gave a high giggle, then transfigured into a bright green door handle.

The entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens.

The Marauders stepped back as the door swung open. Eagerly, they stepped inside, each boy stepping out of the cloak and into the vast kitchen. James went last, tucking the cloak into the bag he’d brought and stepping inside, closing the door behind him. He turned to step further into the kitchen, but nearly ran into his friends, stopping just short of bowling over Peter and Remus.

“What—oh.”

Abruptly, James realized that the reason none of his friends had done the sensible thing and moved out of the way for him was that there was an extremely large crowd of house elves still in the kitchens. It was near morning and they were still working. Even on the day before Christmas Eve. And all of them were staring up at the Marauders with wide, orb-like eyes.

Cautiously, James stepped forward.

“Um, hello.” He offered. “I brought friends. So it’s...it’s not just me. This time. I hope that’s okay.”

There was a brief pause. Then a cheer rang out among the house elves and they dissolved into elated chatter.

“Mr.Potter has returned!”

“We are most thrilled at your presence, Mr.Potter!”

“You’ve brought friends, sir!”

“Sir, would you like some tea?”

“Hello again, Mr.Potter!”

The four third years were all pulled enthusiastically into the crowd of elves. James, the only one who had successfully ventured into the kitchens before, watched with amusement as his flustered friends addressed the multitude of house elves that were swarming around them.

“What brings you here this evening, Mr.Potter?”

“Would you like some Christmas cake, sir?”

“Mince pie, Mr.Lupin? You _must_ eat.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Remus politely took a small pie off the offered tray. This turned out to be a miscalculation as it resulted in nearly a dozen nearby elves eagerly pushing their trays towards Remus as well, chattering and twittering.

“Excuse me?” James announced. A hush fell over the crowd as the elves stood at attention. “Would you mind too terribly if we used your kitchen? My friend Sirius here has never made Christmas cookies and I’d like to rectify that immediately.”

A hush fell over the crowd. _Never? Never made Christmas cookies? Surely not_. But, absorbing the fact that it was devastatingly true, the house elves sprung into action. They rushed about, gathering trays and paper and rolling pins, pulling out stacks of cookie cutters and setting the oven. The elves delightedly ran through the kitchen, searching through the cavernous cupboards for ingredients. 

James turned to Sirius and beamed. “Do they love me or what?”

“Or what.” Sirius said, half teasing and half dazed. He’d been trying to find a way into the kitchen since their first year and—even though Sirius himself hadn’t been the one to succeed their efforts—it was miraculous. James had found it by accident of course, so he couldn’t be blamed for initially coming alone, but he had immediately alerted the others. Now that he was surrounded by it, Sirius realized he had never seen anything so organized and yet so chaotic.

Peter was in complete awe. He’d seen house elves, of course. His family had even had one when he was younger, but here at Hogwarts it was a completely different environment. Furthermore, it was an environment with a seemingly endless supply of helpful elves offering him large platters of food. Peter grinned and took a platter of cheese cubes.

Remus was still a bit uncomfortable about the idea of house elves. He’d known what they were, but knowing they existed and seeing them in their workplace—and such a large number of them—was a tad overwhelming. Still, he endured it all the same. They were extremely polite and friendly, and though they hadn’t much of a regard for personal space, they seemed happy to be working and had willingly let the Marauders into their pristine kitchen. They were lovely.

James led the others over to a cleared off counter. They stood behind James, watching him easily interact with the house elves. Like he was friends with every single one of them even though Sirius knew for a fact he’d only been down here twice. James gave several of the elves a description of the type of cookie he wanted to make and what he thought they needed, and they hurried back off to the cupboards to gather the rest of the ingredients. 

Sirius frowned. “How are you so good at talking to them?”

“What do you mean?” James asked. 

“It’s just...doesn’t your family have a house elf?” Sirius tried. What Sirius really meant was that he absolutely despised his house elf Kreacher and he couldn’t imagine ever being polite to such a cold, vile creature. Of course, that description applied to his mother as well, so surely he was in the wrong. Another thing he would never admit out loud. But these house elves were much different than Kreacher that Sirius had no idea how to act around them. They were _nice_.

James shrugged. “They like me.”

“They like having someone to spoil.” Remus pointed out around a mouthful of treacle tart.

“You’re one to talk.” Peter chuckled. Sirius snorted and raised an eyebrow at Peter’s cheese platter. The others laughed.

The elves excitement hadn’t diminished, but nonetheless, most of them went back to their jobs. They’d been in the middle of preparing tomorrow's breakfast and still had much to do. A few elves stayed near them to supervise and prep the area, and waited patiently in case of further instructions.

“Alright.” James proudly surveyed the counter. “Pick a cookie cutter.”

Laid out among the ingredients were several large stacks of cookie cutters. Which was a bit surprising, to be honest, because Remus couldn’t imagine that the elves would need them when they could simply make shapes in the dough with magic. Perhaps it was tradition. Or perhaps Remus just knew nothing about cooking with magic. When he’d baked with his mother, they’d always done things the muggle way. This was a bit of a first for him too. 

“Is that really the first thing we should be doing?” Remus asked him, knowing it wasn’t. James shrugged.

“Probably not, but it’s one of the funnest parts.”

" _Funnest_ isn't a word."

“What do you mean, cookie cutter?” Sirius asked. 

“What shape do you want the cookies to be in?”

“That’s not something you do with magic?” Sirius asked. Remus turned to look at James, but it was Peter who offered an answer.

“You don’t need magic to make Christmas cookies.” Peter told Sirius. “Or any cookies, really. You have made regular cookies, haven't you?”

“Are you really asking me if my parents cook?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” Peter frowned. “Never?”

“Of course not. The Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black would never deign to stoop so low.” Sirius sniffed, puffing out his chest and straightening the collar of his pajama robes. He turned to Peter with a curled lip. 

Peter laughed. Sirius slouched and grinned, then dragged the pile of shapes towards his area of the counter and started carefully pulling them out of the stack and laying them out in a wide group.

“Don’t pick any animals.” James warned. “They’ll run away while we’re making them and they’ll be harder to frost.” He and Remus started mixing together the dry and wet ingredients for the dough while Sirius took time to examine his options.

There were trees and ornaments, witch hats and Santa hats, stockings and presents, dragons and owls. All essential Christmas shapes. Along with the house symbols of course. Those were a given. Sirius looked directly at James and selected every single animal shape, gathering a small mountain in his arms. He smiled smugly. Remus snorted.

“Don’t blame us when a frosted lion tries to bite your fingers off.” He said, scraping the dough out of the mixing bowl and onto the parchment paper. Sirius stared. Remus frowned. “What?”

“How’d you make that?” Sirius asked. “That was just a bunch of powdery stuff and some eggs. Why’s it solid now?”

“It’s called baking.” James said pointedly. “Pete, give him the rolling pin.” Peter handed it over to Sirius.

“Push it over the dough and flatten it out.” Remus ordered. For once, Sirius did as he was told. He rolled out the dough, pausing every once in a while to let one of his friends sprinkle flour over the dough.

They kept working on their cookies while the elves worked on breakfast around them. Sirius rolled out the dough and all four of them cut out the cookies, wrangling the bouncing and fidgeting metal cutters into the floury dough and running after the poor sticky animals as they sprang to life. They ended up with four trays worth of delicious, slightly deformed creatures. With some difficulty, the Marauders wrestled the cookies into the oven.

“It doesn’t hurt them, does it?” Peter wondered. “They’re shaped like animals and they’re walking around and then we’re putting them in an oven.”

“They’re made with enchanted cookie cutters, Pete.” Remus said gently. “If we were putting the cookie cutters in the oven, it would be different.”

“Yeah, cause it would probably explode, but that’s not the point,” said James. “They’re meant to be eaten. You don't feel bad about eating chocolate frogs, do you?”

“I don't know how to make chocolate frogs.” Peter muttered.

A little while later, the oven timer dinged. The elves rushed over to the oven and excitedly levitated the trays over to the counter, helpfully shuffling over with bowls and bowls of sprinkles and colored icing.

“Would sirs like anymore peppermint?”

“Frost _over_ the counter, Mr.Potter.”

“One knife per bowl, Sir.”

“Be careful, Mr.Lupin! The hot chocolate is quite hot!”

“More tea, sirs?”

James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius redistributed themselves around the counter, spreading out slightly to give each other adequate decorating space.

“Move over, I want the dragon!”

“Sirius, you’re hogging all the chocolate sprinkles!”

“How else am I going to make a Christmas wolf?”

“We’ve already got a Christmas wolf and he’s eating all of our cookies. We don’t need another one.”

“Because Peter hasn’t eaten a single crumb.”

“Eating them’s the whole point!”

Sirius grinned at his friends. James with frosting all over his fingers, Peter finishing up his cheese platter in between decorating breaks, Remus meticulously arranging his colored sprinkles on the wings of a patient cookie dragon.

They were his favorite people and he was lucky to have them. They’d also pointedly and repeatedly told Sirius that they absolutely weren’t staying at Hogwarts over the winter holidays because of him. James’ parents were just going on vacation, that was all. Besides, Peter and Remus lived too far away anyways. This was much more convenient for _them_ , it had nothing to do with Sirius.

Sirius beamed. He didn’t need or want to spend Christmas holiday with the Blacks. He had his family right here.


End file.
